


keep

by v3ilfire



Series: i fought the war, but the war won [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6724630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v3ilfire/pseuds/v3ilfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's a moment when the eldest hawke finds kittens in the garden and all, for once, is well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep

“Pop!” 

Malcolm’s eyes shifted upwards from his grimoire. Fifteen years was long enough to recognize the nuances of his daughter’s variations in that one word - and this particular tone was usually reserved for breaking something she shouldn’t have. He supposed there was that _one_  time he accidentally forgot to disenchant a plant and it kept dancing in their windowsill, but his theory stood strong otherwise.  
“What’d you do _now,_ Hesta?” he called back, laughing.  
“First of all, rude,” she yelled back. “I’ve never done anything wrong in my entire life.” From the kitchen, Bethany and Carver giggled and groaned in chorus. “Second of all, come outside. I need your help with something.” 

With his grimoire safely beneath a floorboard again, Malcolm met his eldest offspring outside and let her lead him to the flower garden Leandra had insisted they start behind their modest little farmhouse. He knew it was her way of praying that they’d _stay_  in Lothering, but he said nothing about it. That promise is not one an apostate could make. 

“You brought me outside to show me… the garden? Did you not know this was here?” Hesta rolled her eyes as she dropped into a low squat. Malcolm couldn’t see what she was looking for, but by the time he’d half a mind to squat down next to her, she was already gathering something into her arms.   
“The whole town knows it’s here, Pops, you wouldn’t shut up about it for a month.”   
“Do you see anyone else in this town with a garden as beautiful and perfect as your mother? Cut your old man some slack. What am I supposed to brag about? My _kids_?”   
“Uh, _duh_ ,” she said. “Speaking of which, congratulations! You’ve got four more.” Before he could ask, the kid rose slowly to her feet and turned to face him with an armful of … kittens. “Their mom’s dead. Barlin’s dog attacked her last night.”  
“I think I need to have a word with your mother. They look nothing like me.” 

Leandra had been initially opposed to the idea of nursing kittens, but it was very hard to resist four gray little fluffy lumps with stubby little kitten paws who hadn’t even opened their little kitten eyes. Even Carver had been completely pacified by the tiny creatures, lying shock still on the floor as to not wake the one lying on his chest.   
“Can we keep them, pop?”   
“I don’t think four cats in a tiny farmhouse is a good idea, Carv.”  
“Well, _I_ think it’s a purr-fect idea,” Hesta chimed in from her post at the kitchen table. Armed with a half-filled basin of water and Bethany to keep it warm and be on drying duty, he’d turned his kids into a lean, mean, kitten-washing machine. “We’ll  be the meow of the town.”  
“Shut _up_ , Hesta,” Carver groaned. “Bethany, _do_  something.”   
“I’m busy,” Bethany said, trying to mask her giggles.   
“Don’t be such a sourpuss.”   
“Pop, make her shut up.”  
“What a bad cat-tiude!”  
“ _Pop_.”   
“Hesta, stop tormenting your brother,” Malcolm conceded. “Paw-lease.”   
“Fine, Pop, but only because you’re so purr-suasive.”   
“Maker help me.” 

Malcolm snorted, settling further back in his chair. Once the kids quieted, he could just pick up the sound of Leandra’s humming leaking in through a window they’d left cracked open. There was a moment in which he felt – Maker, was there even a word for it? _Blessed_  gave a little more credit to the Chantry than he’d care to, and content seemed insufficient. But between his wife’s humming and the fire in the hearth, the girls giggling in the other room and Carver whispering secrets to the kitten asleep on his chest, there was a fullness between his ribs that he’d always been careful not to feel too fully, lest he lose it. 

“Pop,” came the call from the kitchen, this one colored with ease. “Did you hear me? I said we’re finished.”   
“Sorry, kid. I was having a meow-ment.” 

Carver groaned. It wouldn’t be home if he didn’t. 


End file.
